What's past is past
by Aliasdefeat
Summary: England has history, that much Alfred knows, but of what? He can’t be sure. He knows that Arthur was once a pirate, and, well that’s about it! US/UK, some own-characters.


**Title:** What's past is past

**Genre:** Historical, fluff, emotion, etc.

**Pairing(s):** US/UK, 'nuff said (actually, some PAST!Portugal/UK and France/UK antics)

**Warnings:** PAST!Portugal/UK, lots of OC (Francis was too hard ;_;) and France/UkANTICS!

**Summary:** England has history, that much Alfred knows, but of what? He can't be sure. He knows that Arthur was once a pirate, and, well that's about it! But nightmares, stray remarks, odd knowledge and quirks reveal pieces of history, and maybe Alfred will get to the bottom of all this…

Arthur had nightmares, quite a lot of them to be honest, and they always frightened Alfred. Sometimes, Arthur would seem aggressive in his dreams, which was all fine by America (except when a well-placed kick from an unconscious England, send Alfred reeling from the bed) and sometimes Arthur would seem silly and pompous. He'd drawl in a slurred mumble of 'Yarr!' and talk of sailing, and Alfred would sit up, watch his expressions, try so hard not to laugh at Arthur. But tonight wasn't going to be a night like that.

Arthur was coiled up on his side, taking up more bed than he should, even with his smaller frame, and Alfred was glad he couldn't see Arthur's face. He could hear Arthur though, talking in a confused Indian-like language that America seriously doubted he could when he wasn't asleep. He sounded, not gentler, nor softer, but more fragile. Confused phrases of English slipped in there, and odd little whimpers. Alfred winced, as he could only imagine what events were unfolding. "Nnh..Erin" Who was Erin? "Erinland, -Reland…don't-" Arthur broke off into a series of confused chattering whines - and what sounded like primordial cussing (Alfred raised an eyebrow) – before resuming. "Eriiin" Plaintive. "Guy…don't leave me" What sounded like a sob. "I hate you Francis!" Arthur gave a kitten-punch, knuckles and seeking-fingertips and Alfred instinctively took the hand. Arthur rolled over, briefly revealing his red, tear-stained face. "Erin, Guy…everybody leaves me.." Arthur rolled over completely and buried his face against America's side. "'Merica-" The following sentence was once again foreign, but Alfred could figure it out, and the usual guilt glittered in his stomach. "Alone…'Re eh..land..Erin-nee.." Whimper, whine, repeat. "Guy. Francis. France. I hate you. Don't leave me, please….please…" Arthur dissolved back into the Indian-like language and Alfred bit his lip unevenly.

He had once asked about Arthur's relationship with Francis, and its antagonistic quality, but Arthur had sounded attached to France – and was Guy another name for Francis? Who was Erin anyways; Alfred had never heard of another person named Erin and Arthur had called her his big sister. "Everybody left me…" England soddenly murmured, and Alfred stroked his hair, wanting to promise he'd never leave Arthur, ever ever ever! But then, Alfred had already done that. Clearly Arthur had a history of abandonment at some point, but Alfred had never considered that – but, he wouldn't change history, of course. He liked his independence a good deal, but, still, when and who had left Arthur? Francis? Who was Erin? Why hadn't Alfred even thought that maybe Arthur had his own past? He'd been a little kid, and a feisty teenager, for all he had cared, Arthur had started existing when he had, but of course that wasn't true. Alfred made up his mind to ask Francis about this matter…as soon as possible!

Possible would be when Arthur stopped moaning and tossing in his sleep, and Alfred kept brushing his hair, mumbling quietly "Ho…Ho…Watane…Ho, ho, Watane…ki-yo-ki-na..ki-yo-ki-yo ki-yo-ki na…"

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

"Erin?" Francis raised an eyebrow, in his thickly questioning accent. "Ah? – I've not heard that name for a long time~" Alfred scratched behind his ear. "And, oui, I am Guy – Gaul" Francis smirked eagerly. "So, Arthur decided to tell you of his past, non?"

"Well – no" Alfred admitted "But I do want to know!"

Francis snorted, suddenly cagey. "Hnn?" No, make that snooty, America decided. "Then you ask Loegria himself"

"Loegria?" Alfred leaned in eagerly. "Was that what he was called back in those days?"

"_Those days_," Francis replied. "Are none of your business, unless, oui, unless, Arthur – himself! – wants you to know. I will not tell you without his permission"

"He never wants me to know about _those days_" Alfred protested. "But I want to know! Then I can try and make him feel better for it! He still hurts!"

"Of course he hurts!" Francis' s's were becoming slurred z's with the force of his emotions. "We all do! The past is very painful!" America opened his mouth to make another point, but Francis began shoving him out of his house. "Out! Out!"

"But..what happened?!" Alfred wailed, fighting back and digging his feet in, but France seemed very fierce… "Why did you abandon him!" Francis froze, Alfred half-thrown from the doorway, so Alfred pushed on. "Why did Erin abandon him? Who was she?"

Francis moved away from Alfred, and without looking, Alfred could hear sorrow in his hands. "The glace melted, and the tears of notré mére flooded the world" He whispered. "Loegria…oui…so stubborn. He did not drown, but he grew up alone – we could not reach him"

"But who was Erin?" Alfred was very confused with this explanation.

"Ireland" The door slammed, catching Alfred on the head.

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

These entire events had confused Alfred greatly, afterall, Ireland didn't actually have a…national…image. But apparently Ireland, had, at some point been a lady named Erin, and what was that about the 'glace' melting and 'notre mere'? He spent his journey back to Arthur's house thoroughly disheartening as he tried to figure out what Francis had meant. Maybe he'd ask Matty, who knew a good deal more about Ice than he did…hey that wasn't such a bad idea now was it – AND Matty knew French! America grinned to himself, always able to depend on himself was Alfred! Fishing out his mobile-phone from his pocket, he continued to congratulate himself and was even doing a little dance when Matty picked up.

"Hel-"

"MATTHEW!" America sang, instantly putting Matthew on his guard. "Ol' buddy, ol' pal, ol' son of a gun!"

"Hey Alfred…?"

"Heyhey~ So, tell me, what does notre mere mean?"

"Uhm…our mother…What's this about Al-"

"Awesome! Now…what can you tell me about THE ICE melting?"

"Oh – well, we've got a lot of polar bear conserva-"

"Nono, I mean, like…a LOT of ice melting a LONG time ago"

"Like…the end of the last ice age?"

Of course! "Yeah! Tell me about it!"

"Uh…what in particular?" Matthew was so confused with his half-brother…

"Like…people getting cut off from others and stuff"

"Sea levels drop during Ice Ages…and rise when they end…" Matthew began uncertainly. "So, some countries connected by land, get cut off when the sea rises again…"

"Like?"

"Uh. Well. England? Yeah, he would have been cut off from Eurasia and-"

"Ireland!"

"Well that too, but I was going to say how Gree-"

"Gotta go Matty!" Click. Matthew looked at his phone, blinking rapidly.

"Uhm?"

Alfred however, was running back home to Arthur, for all the world, behaving like an excited puppy dog. You could all but hear his heart pounding out an, 'ohboyohboyohboyohboy!' as he tore the door back on its hinges, and plunged into the house, leaping about, looking for England, when he realized – he didn't exactly have anything nice to say to Arthur…just how he knew Arthur had been separated from his entire family back, what, 10000 years ago? And that he knew Erin was called Ireland and didn't exist anymore, uhm, pleasant stuff. So, that Arthur, who had heard America come crashing into his house, and naturally come down to yell at Alfred for whatever hyperactive discovery he had made, instead found Alfred sitting on the floor morosely.

"What's up with you?" Arthur mimed a slight kick at Alfred, who looked seriously up at Arthur.

Maybe it wasn't nice stuff to talk about, and Alfred considered dropping this entire thing, but he remembered Arthur's tortured whines the previous night, the frantic sound of his breathing. That resolved everything. Even if it was unpleasant, Alfred did want to know and he did want to help – if he was here to help Arthur through it, then Arthur would be fine, wouldn't he? Alfred would be here to comfort him. So Alfred, stared steadily at Arthur, and gritted his teeth.

"What happened to Erin?"

Alfred watched, surprised, as Arthur's face lost anger, lost humour, lost curiousity, the expressions and hints of those fading, dripping off his face. But they weren't replaced with sorrow, or sadness, or the pain, which had been there when he had slept. Nothing rose up to replace those feelings, instead, his face remained blank and Arthur uneasily lowered himself to the ground beside Alfred.

"…who…told you her name?"

"You said it in your sleep"

"Ah – you….know her…country?"

"Yes. Ireland. Francis told me. What happened to her?"

"…"

"Arthur?"

In Alfred's head, the scenario was very simple. Arthur had suffered a painful childhood because of this separation, and something had happened to Erin. Maybe Arthur had never forgiven her, like Francis, and Erin had died. So, in his head, Alfred figured Arthur would start explaining, then break down into tears, and Alfred would help him. Comfort him. But Arthur…?

"Get out of my house"

Arthur didn't want help.

"Arthur? Are you okay? Look – I'm so-"

"I said get the fuck out of my house!" Arthur did not sound like he was close to tears, he sounded very close to hitting Alfred round the head, and both of them scrambled to their feet. Alfred fled towards the door, followed by a furious Arthur, who was intent on seeing this scoundrel out. But, he saw a flicker of pain in England's eyes, which had definitely not been there before.

"Why won't you tell me?" Alfred asked, dazed and hurt by Arthur's ferocity.

"Get out"

"Please! I have a right to k-"

"No. You don't" Arthur hissed. "You actually _don't_"

"We're lovers!" Oh dear lord, Alfred knew he sounded corny, and tried to pretend he hadn't quite put it that way. He ploughed on. "I _love _you" He insisted. Oh well, if he was digging himself a cliché, banal grave, he'd better add a headstone… "Try to see this from my side of the fence Art, I…I want to know your past, because I care about you and it hurts you an-"

"HAH" Arthur kicked Alfred outside with a strength Alfred had rather forgotten. The same edge of fury fist-fights during the revolution had contained. "Try to see this from MY perspective" At Alfred's blank look, Arthur pulled back his lips in rage, and shut the door. "Don't you ever come back"

In less than two days, America was sitting on England's couch, nuzzling and kissing him with an odd mix of lust and chastity. Naturally, the latter would not last too long. Right now, Arthur was pretending their argument had never happened, and right now, Alfred was inclined to agree. But that didn't mean he had given up, but, since Francis appeared to be the authority on the past of England right now, Alfred had gone back to France for questioning, where France had explained Arthur's view.

_He doesn't want you to know, because The Empires agreed to raise their children without subjecting them to the pain of the past. What's past is past. Arthur is so proud you've grown up without…these events._

Arthur was being feisty right now, probably left-over rage from their own fight, and was currently flexing himself against Alfred, trying to get on top, and writhing his tongue into America's mouth. Consider Chastity a forgotten relic. Alfred was inclined to let him have it; he sorta saw where Arthur was coming from now. Okay, he wasn't, but, he wanted to! And he wasn't going to press it. The air felt a bit heady, and it was dark. Some…passing…

Alfred froze Arthur's movements against him, a palm against his chest. "What's that Art?" Arthur's panting was loud and distinctly irritated, as he tried to clear his head enough, and pause his rampant breathing.

"What's…what?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking" Alfred shifted under Arthur, and Arthur's patience seemed to thin, for he began to simulate thrust-like movements softly against Alfred's leg, obviously not intending to, but too caught up not to.

"Alfred" England sounded annoyed.

But Alfred gently rolled, and pushed Arthur down. "No, I want to see this" He leaned to the side, pressing against Arthur so he could reach the floor from the couch, and hooked his fingers on his glasses. It was so distracting hearing Arthur's fluttering breath by his ear, and his hips rocking against him, but Arthur managed to grab his glasses, and flick the lamp on. Arthur's eyes were venomous, as Alfred twisted him round to examine the far side of his hip. And how had he not noticed this before? Alfred settled his glasses on his nose – probably because England thought he looked sexy without his glasses – and traced the small symbol. It was tiny, slightly faded, but there. An ornate W and C intertwined above Arthur's hipbone. "What's this?"

"Mhhhm" Arthur's hum was the one that signals that he didn't really want to explain it, and was stalling for time. "What?"

"You know what; this…is it a tattoo?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"Who is WC? Hang on? WC? Why do you have toilet on your hip? Did you tattoo that there?" Alfred put it all together with a laugh – England had got drunk and had the letters for toilet put on his hip and was now playing coy and innocent about it to save his own reputation! Hah!

"I do NOT have toiler tattooed on my hip!" Arthur angrily retorted.

"Haha! Sure looks like it Art!" Alfred giggled. "You have toilet tattooed on your hip, what a lark, how drunk were you then?" Alfred poked Arthur's cheek, ignoring the darkened look in Arthur's eyes that usually symbolized dangerous territory and smashed teacups. "WC. Water closet. Haha. Toilet. So anyways, how drunk were you?"

"I wish I had been drunk" Arthur spat, kicking America away from him, who suddenly looked a bit worried. "And for the record it's a brand, not a tattoo"

"Wait on? What do you mean?" Alfred reached out to Arthur, now very concerned. "You…wish you had been drunk? A brand? Isn't that…?" Isn't that a red hot piece of metal? "….Arthur?" Was he asking the wrong questions? "…Arthur. _WHO_ did that?"

Arthur threw America's shirt at him, bright-red, flushed and furious. "I hate you" It was shrill, and certainly a lie.

"Arthur?" Alfred tried to touch his shoulder but Arthur swatted him away. Nevertheless, he kept asking. "How did you get that mark?" Arthur made no reply for a minute, two minutes, five, ten. Awkward as only stony, half-clothed silence can be. Alfred didn't think he was going to answer, and shuffled up, pulling his clothes on, edging away and off the couch. "I'll…see you later?"

"…" Alfred wondered if that was a yes or a no, and turned away, deciding not to ask. When Arthur murmured quietly, "It stands for William the Conqueror" Alfred paused in the doorway. "I was at war with Francis, back when he had a split-personality, and those damn danes too" What happened? The question threaded in the air. "The Danes were easy enough, Harold showed them whatfot, but Normandy – Francis on crack in my opinion – attacked. William the Conqueror was their duke, he subdued London on the 25th of December"

"Christmas" Alfred said without thinking.

"Marked England as his property, branded and had his way with me" A painful pause now "And then tried to shove bloody French down the throats of my people" Alfred was smart enough not to question 'had his way' considering Arthur's heavy breath there, but couldn't help asking other things.

"What happened? Why aren't you French then? Did 'Harold' fight back?"

"Hah, no. We turned the French English with our culture and weather and tea" You could hear a heart beat, in fact, Alfred reckoned he could hear two of them. Alfred didn't need to ask. "Yes. That's why I still hate Francis"

"Oh…I'm sorry"

"..come…back?" Alfred turned to see Arthur watching him with a proud frown, but pleading eyes, and stepped towards the sofa. He crouched down, with his hands in Arthur's hair, and him on top – at least something normal had come of that conversation.

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

For no less than a week, Alfred had not been talking to Francis, who couldn't quite fathom why, not that he noticed, but then Alfred had forgotten how angry he was at France, and remembered, how at the time, France had been bipolar or something, and in truth, the Normans didn't exist anymore, and how the past was past to Arthur (At least when Alfred wasn't dragging it up) so he had gone over to cheerfully chat to France. Halfway through this discussion, he remembered the wickedness of France, and had begun yelling at Francis.

"Oui, oui, this is a lovely tirade, but what is the matter?" Francis finally asked, when America had started using his arms to gesticulate wildly.

"Y…you..raped Arthur!" Alfred stammered furiously.

Francis responded with disturbed and confused eyes. "Non, mon cherie, Utrecht was mutual"

"..Utrecht?"

Francis rolled his eyes and muttered. "Or is this 1066…Mon dieu! For the last time, I have no memory of _that_"

Alfred blinked. "Utrecht? What on earth was Utrecht"

Francis winked at him. "Oh hoho? Wouldn't America like to know?~" Francis laughed, and pushing away from America, strolled away. This would require a good long talk with England…

"So, tell me about Utrecht!" Alfred asked hopefully. Arthur spat his tea out, leaving a nasty messy puddle on the table, and Alfred blinked in surprise at the reaction.

"W..Whatever…Whatever! Francis told you about U..Utrecht" Arthur stuttered, blushing. "Was…entirely…I was entirely drunk! And you are NOT to tell Matthew anything whatsoever!"

"Soo…Matthew comes into this?"

"I didn't say that"

"Come to think of it, he speaks French AND English…" Alfred considered this. The pieces fell into place quickly enough and Alfred guffawed loudly, and leaned on his hands, forward, smirking as Arthur mopped up the tea, giggling as Arthur flushed and growled.

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

"So…what _girls_ have you known?" Alfred asked, invasively.

"Girls?"

"Girls. You know. Womanly things. You may not have heard of them, been so long since you had any. Have boobs. No d-"

"Thank you America, but I know what a girl is" England sighed out through his nose. "She was…how could I put it? Beautiful."

"More beautiful than me?"

"Yes" Arthur was shameless. He saw Alfred's hurt look, and sighed again. "Don't look at me like that; if you meet her, you will understand. She truly is beautiful"

"Who is…she?"

"Phillipa" Arthur explained. "My…" He looked up at Alfred to carefully measure the reaction. "Phillipa Kirkland-Gaunt"

"Kir-?" Alfred responded by pulling away in alarm. "S..So, is she like…a sister?"

"She's my wife" Arthur said nervously.

"You're married!"

"It's…a technicality you could say" Arthur mumbled.

"W..Well I! I! I!" Alfred leapt up to his feet and Arthur grabbed his arm, yanking him down.

"Stop stammering for god's sake Alfred!" England stared moodily at him. "Will you just listen?" Alfred quietly nodded. "We've been married about six hundred years, but I hardly ever see her"

"Are you…still in love with her?"

Arthur looked at his hands, then back at Alfred. "Maybe. I'm afraid I am" He managed to swallow nervously. "But then, I was also afraid I wasn't"

"I don't understand"

"I..met her sailing" Arthur began, and Alfred had the impression this was to be a long and troubling story. "She used to love the water, and she'd sit by the sea and smile at me. Her older brother is Spain, did you know? She's got that…gorgeous skin" Arthur coughed. "I can't say I wanted her right away, but I did in the end. It was an awkward courtship. I used to do silly things for her like carry her books to Aviz, and she'd say thank you with her eyes" America listened curiously. "But, she was fierce. She wanted her Capital…and I helped her. I fought for her. Surely you understand…to be a hero…we married"

"We were happy for a long time. She was a natural explorer, and she loved the ocean. More than I did to be honest. But, one day, she betrayed me, and sided with Antonio. Her brother over her husband. I was furious. Maybe it was a small matter, and we did make up in the end, but…I carry my grudges. And I wanted Cairo and Cape Town to be linked…I was angry. I told her to retreat. Forced her rather! Whatever we had left of a relationship from the Anglo-Spanish War, whatever chance we had to heal properly…I think I ruined it" By now Arthur was talking so quietly, Alfred could scarcely hear him.

"We…do favours now and then for eachother.." Arthur continued, fighting his own whispers back to a confident note. "We are married" England was determined to point that out. "But I haven't seen her for years – we try to keep out of each other's way"

"Do you love her?"

Arthur looked at Alfred, seeing the jealousy, and fear in his eyes. Almost chuckled. "And what if I did?" The fear flashed brighter on America's face. "We're both such prideful individuals, she and I, we do not even divorce because we are so stubborn" Arthur smiled sadly. "Even if I do love, and even if she loves me, we will never be…" Now there was blatant sorrow here, for some loss. The loss of a relationship. "Even if we both still love each other, our own prides will never allow us to be together again. It would insult her, and me too. You don't need to worry America. I love you" Arthur pressed his forehead against Alfred's. "And you've never allowed something as silly as pride to intervene in a relationship, now have you?"

"You miss her" America said slowly. "Don't you?"

"I think so" Arthur admitted.

"You do love her"

"I think so too" England hung his head for the verdict, for not being able to let go of the memory of a girl with her legs in the surf, laughing at him and teasing him. It was hard to forget how she had stolen all his gold. She had inspired him to become a gentleman, the only time he had seen her cry, was when he said that ultimatum. Difficult not to regret his own foolishness. He wouldn't lie to America, he had loved that Portugal, and still did love Portugal. But he loved Alfred. So, he waited, for Alfred's verdict.

"You're mine though – she let you slip through her fingers"

"I did a lousy job of holding onto her too"

"Maybe" Alfred grinned. "But you're mine!" He pulled Arthur up to his face, determined to wipe the loss and regret from his face. He wanted Arthur to smile and think only of Alfred, of him. He would kiss away every memory of Portugal, if only for a few minutes – Arthur would definitely be screaming his name, not Phillipa's. And then, maybe, Alfred would try to rendezvous the two of them, just so (he could prove that Arthur was his) Arthur wouldn't have to be all upset about what he had ruined with Phillipa, because they'd have closure, right – right?! Or maybe…Alfred reflected as Arthur bit his lip…he'd just keep England all to himself!

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

"Why did you adopt me?" America asked suddenly. But Arthur could see it wasn't such a sudden question. It wasn't off-the-wall. Someone had been talking earlier, Arthur suspected, probably called him a colony-whore and America had argued back that he had been special, and Australia might have laughed too loudly. Francis and Cuba would have exchanged glances; Cuba (And Arthur agreed here) never let Francis explain Matty's origins to Matty. Alfred was probably frightened that he wasn't special, he was clearly terrified of being unimportant.

A long time ago, Arthur had looked into the history of America, he had been curious and interested in setting up a colony, and a little blonde boy with bright blue eyes seemed ideal for this task. He seemed sweet enough, and didn't look like he'd reject Arthur, rejection and isolation haunted Arthur like a ghost. But, who isn't curious about origins, sometimes. Maybe, because, nobody would say where this little 'America' came from, and nobody was owning up to him. Arthur had felt sorry for him, a little, no I won't admit it, maybe, yes. So, Arthur had done some digging around. He was, to be sure, a cousin to Feliciano, and Lovino Vargas, and as far as England could see, his father had been named Christopher Vargas. But as for America's mother? England had been fascinated by the stories he had found, but all trace of her had vanished. He had searched, because, because he wanted America to have his mother as he grew up, so he had really tried to search for her, but all he found were stories. Each place he went to on the new continent, called her a different name, but he felt reassured by calling her Raven. England was incredibly fond of Ravens, always insistent to have at least seven around the place; they were magical creatures in his opinion, symbols of good luck, it was distinctly soothing to hear tales of Raven's magical prowess. Columbus had called her India. Raven sounded better. But where was Raven? She had gone, taken flight. He had heard she had flown south to join her brother Coyote, but when England had looked there, he was told they had both moved into the mountains and the rainforests, and so England had gone into the mountains and rainforests! By now, this was a distinct matter of pride, and Arthur had to be rescued from the wilderness and dragged back to his home. But he had not found America's mother. He had not found Raven.

His failure, though this little one was no concern of his, and so Arthur decided to raise the young one himself. Of course, he would do so properly, but from a young age, America's heritages, both of them, showed. Like his Italian roots, America didn't like to be bossed around, not in the slightest. Several times he had thrown his tea into the pond when he thought Arthur wasn't looking, and at others had shrieked and screamed whenever their wills clashed. His mother's influence was difficult to gauge. Arthur had been hoping – internally – that America would display the same magical potency as his mother, but this was a short-lived hope. From the earliest age, America proved himself to be an entire insult to the entire category of magic itself! And such a wild child! Arthur could only assume this was his mother's roots for certain, as Italy was so cultured. He had spent so many lessons, drilling enunciation into America, and repeating 'Alfred, Alfred, Alfred' until he was sick of it, but still the child would slur when he met new people that he was 'America Alfwed Clerkland' the only one of which he got right, the distinctly tribal 'America' name, though England was fairly certain the name was Italian. Sometimes Alfred spoke in a strange unending number of lilting tongues, which Arthur discouraged. Arthur had attempted to tame the bewildering nature of the child, teaching him manners and poise. All for naught, the tribal impulses of Alfred came out in his sense of fashion, food and language, though clearly more European, it reflected native. From his mother he inherited muddiness, athleticism, recklessness, roughness…the list went on. Still, there were several traits from Raven, that Arthur…adored? Yes. Adored. America's sense of nobility, justice, freedom, adventure, loyalty and bravery. Even heroism. Arthur loved that. Arthur always wondered what he would have thought of Raven, he had hoped he would think well of her, had they met, but she had abandoned America, and he didn't know why. Alfred, still of course, ran around and crashed into things, and Arthur wondered if he should have let Alfred run with wolves, as the boy had clearly longed to do, whether he realized it or not. But England didn't have any wolves anymore, and he wouldn't have known how to begin to raise Alfred as Raven might have wanted. God knows, he hadn't even known to try back then.

Maybe if he had raised Alfred in what was clearly a natural manner for America, then maybe the revolution wouldn't have happened, maybe Alfred wouldn't have needed to assert his freedom and independence. But then, England reflected, he might still have thrown tea in the pond anyway.

"Yoo-hoo~ Arty~" Alfred was waving his fingers under Arthur's nose.

"What? Huh, oh!" Arthur looked at Alfred, and his blonde hair and blue eyes, suspecting that neither colouring had come from Raven, but still, something in the skin, and something in the shape of the eyes and lay of the hair…He was zoning out again… "I took a special interest in you, that's all" Alfred looked disappointed.

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

"Do you know why I left you?" Alfred yelled angrily. "Why I had the stupid revolution!" He clenched his fists. "Do you have any idea Arthur? You don't understand!" He wanted to stamp his foot, and could feel himself behaving like a two-year old, how did Arthur make him feel this way so easily? "How could you understand what it means to belong to somebody else, god, to be their property! To be their object! I didn't want to live my life as your colony forever, y'know!" Alfred slapped Arthur, but then stared in paralysis at his own actions. They stared at one another for a short time, then Arthur looked at the floor.

"H..Her name was…Boudica" He said quietly. "And she was the Queen of the Iceni" Arthur's voice had fallen. "When her husband, the King died, the damn Romans stripped her of her land, and her rank, her daughters were raped; it pissed her off. It pissed me off." Arthur turned his head slightly away from Alfred. "It took them three invasions to take over me, three! True some of it was weather, but I was still proud of myself. But I lost, to the Holy Fucking Roman Empire. He taught Latin to my people, and built them silly square houses that couldn't keep the heat worth a damn, he took their land, their belongings, everything they had was now Roman. They weren't English. They were Roman. Sometimes I was a servant in Italy's house, and sometimes I was a servant in my own house" Arthur turned completely away from Alfred. "I couldn't get Rome out of me, of my people, it congealed in my blood. Sometimes I thought it would be okay – Rome brought roads, technology, economy. But sometimes? I wanted to die" Arthur turned his eyes to Alfred, narrowing, glaring. "We destroyed Londinium, Verulamium, Camulodunum…thousands were killed and thousands died. Maybe 100, 000. Maybe more…A Roman General defeated us, just as Rome considered withdrawing and leaving us the hell alone. Boudica poisoned herself to avoid capture" Arthur appraised Alfred's expression. "I know exactly what being property feels like – I was another bitch of Italy once"

"Then how could you do that to anyone else!" Alfred protested. But the answer was there; Arthur didn't know any better; Arthur was afraid of losing himself again; Arthur thought he was better than Rome; Arthur had made an Empire to put Rome to shame to satisfy vengeance; Boudica's ghost lived on in England's bones.

"Don't say I don't understand, I do…and I'm..s..sorry?" Arthur sounded as confused to say that, as Alfred felt to receive it. "D…don't expect me to come to your party. I'll put razors on your motorbike"

"Razors?"

Arthur had already begun to walk away, and Alfred couldn't move under the weight of some of England's past. Inside, there was a wild scream at him to move forward and grab Arthur's arm, but he just couldn't move. No, he had to! Had to! America screamed internally at himself as Arthur walked away.

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

TO BE CONTINUED

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

Erin is the ancient/poetic name for Ireland.

Gaul is the ancient name for France. Guy was the name-version I used of this.

Loegria is an ancient name for England, an alternative I will use later is Albion.

9000 years ago, England was separated from Ireland and Main Eurasia.

The words America are saying are a Cherokee (correct me if I'm wrong) Lullaby. (Spoiler for later in this fanfiction ;3)

When France refers to Notré Mére, he is speaking about Mother Earth.

In 1066, William the Conqueror, of Normandy (what is now North France) invaded and succeded in conquering England. They became English slowly, and lost French lands, but as a result, the British Royal Family is French.

Francis' has no memory of 1066, because that part of him is now in England oO;

Utrecht, or more specifically the Treaty of Utrecht, was part of Canada becoming part of the British Empire, and no longer French. I'm unfamiliar with this history actually.

The Anglo-Portuguese alliance is the oldest in the world.

During the formation of the above alliance, a vital component was Britain lending support to the House of Aviz.

Christopher Columbus discovered America mistakenly, calling it India.

Raven is a mystical symbol in native tribes.

There is an English legend that at all times seven Ravens must be in the tower of London, or England will be invaded.

The Boston Tea Party is where the American's threw tea overboard, the 'tea in pond' reflects this.

It took Rome three invasions to capture England, but one of those was due to England's terrible weather~

Boudica led a revolt against the Romans; much of Arthur's dialogue is accurate, but she also, to legend, put swords on the wheels of her chariot. This is largely believed to be inaccurate.

Characters devised by Alias;

**Name:** Phillipa Kirkland-Gaunt

**Gender: **Female

**About: **So far, I've just described her as stubborn, bold, and enjoys exploring. She likes the ocean a lot, in particular, and in the past was also a pirate, mostly enjoying taunting England on the waves. Her Brother is Antonio, and they usually do not see eye-to-eye, but there is familial loyalty, though they don't understand each other most of the time.

**Choice of Name:** Phillipa was the daughter of John Gaunt (stole his last name too~) and was the first marriage used to solidfy the Alliance. From her, the lines of the 'Golden Age' in Portugal are descended. Therefore I chose her name to represent Portugal. She's got no middle-name, yet.

**Choice of Gender:** Female, mostly because not enough girls, but also, because I see Portugal as a very feminine country (please don't kill me portuguese males!). Their national anthem works well with female voices (uhm, not a good reason) and because I wanted Portugal married to England, and that worked better as a female, plus it gives Alfred less jealousy issues.

**Relationship with England:** Phillipa and Arthur were and are married, and have very similar personality types, with Phillipa being a bit of a domineering wife. They both love the ocean and exploring, along with pirating, but Phillipa is more intense than her husband. Their relationship has become stagnant due to various betrayals between the two, and they do not behave as a couple. They have not seen each other for a very long time, but still officially recognize their marriage in economic favours, etc. They are both too prideful to repair their relationship, and as a result, it has disappeared.

**Other:** I have a friend from Portugal named Phillip – sweet guy.

**Name:** Erin ???

**Gender:** Female

**About:** As of now, I've just had a mysterious figure named Erin, who apparently is no longer living. It is uncertain what has happened to her, and her personality is not clear.

**Choice of Name:** Erin is the ancient and poetic name for Ireland. Plus, it sounds pretty.

**Choice of Gender:** Erin is a girl's name in my opinion. =w=

**Relationship with England: **Arthur describes her as 'nee-chan' or elder sister. Previously he has mentioned brothers (Scotland, and what we guess is Ireland and Wales) I have usurped Ireland from male to female, but he still has brothers (heh). Apparently she, during the Ice Ages, abandoned him. France indicates this may not have been her choice. Since then she has 'VANISHED'.

**Name: **Christopher Vargas

**Gender: **Male

**About: **Christopher is the mysterious biological father to America. He mistakenly called America's mother, India. He disappeared when the Roman Empire fell, but his disappearance has never been explained.

**Choice of Name: **Christopher, from Christopher Columbus, and Vargas is his relation to the Italian family.

**Choice of Gender: **Chris is a boy's name ;D

**Relationship with America: **America's biological father.

**Name: **Raven

**Gender: **Female

**About: **America's biological mother; a being of magic, mystery and tribal values. Abandoned America for unknown reasons and fled to join her brother Coyote in the south. Since then has vanished.

**Choice of Name: **A Raven is a symbol in numerous Indian cultures, and is also a female name. England also has his own superstitions regarding Ravens and I thought the irony pleasant.

**Choice of Gender: **Well, she's America's MOTHER not FATHER.

**Relationship with America: **She abandoned him for unknown reasons. He reflects traits of her, but they are heavily repressed.

**Other: **She had a relationship with Christopher Vargas, and in allegedly called her India mistakenly.

**Name: **Coyote

**Gender: **Male

**About: **Coyote is said to be Raven's brother and lives in South America. Both he and his sister have vanished.

**Choice of Name: **Another symbol of power, also a notable trickster, indicating his personality.

**Choice of Gender: **No real reason, heh. Coyote, seems more male to me.

**Relationship with America: **America's mysterious southern uncle.


End file.
